The Bucket List to Mend a Broken Heart (18 page)

‘Another band I’ve never heard of.’

‘What? You must have. They were big when we were at uni.’

‘What did they sing?’

‘Well . . . I don’t know,’ says Sian, practically scratching her head in recollection. ‘But they’re supposed to be really good live.’

I look around the common that’s been transformed into a festival. It’s packed with people
wandering about drinking from oversized paper cups. There’s a tent in one corner that looks like it would be at home at a circus, a white beer tent in the opposite corner, and a large open stage at the front.

I glance longingly at the giant paper cups.

‘How about we get a drink first?’ I say pointing to a bar next to us.

‘Great idea,’ says Sian, linking her arm through mine and pulling me towards
it.

‘This will be my only drink.’

It’s probably all right to have a couple of beers now as it’s still early. I can sober up later on and still get an early night.

‘Yeah, whatever,’ says Sian, as we shuffle round the queue. When we finally make it to one of the many bar people she orders us the double-pint cups. She pays and we walk back into the throng of people.

‘So, who are we going to go
and see first?’ I say.

‘How about we check out the VIP area at the main stage?’

‘Sounds good.’

We follow the signs for the VIP area and find ourselves in a small tent to the left of the main stage. Not only do we have a brilliant view of the band, but there is also a quiet-looking bar in the corner. It’s sponsored by my favourite fruit cider company, and it has signs saying it’s a free cider
bar.

‘Oh, my God, look,’ I say pointing at the sign and salivating.

‘I wish I’d known that before I spent fifteen pounds on crappy, flat beer.’

‘I wish I’d known that before I agreed to come. What a test of willpower.’

They could have been sponsored by any alcohol brand, but oh, no, they had to be sponsored by them.

I pop my cardboard cup down and go and get myself some strawberry-flavoured
cider. I decide that I’m only going to have this one, but as I sip it I know I’m kidding myself.

The VIP tent is quite busy, yet it’s small enough to have an intimate feel. It’s got high tables scattered throughout to lean on/park the copious amounts of free drink, and it’s decorated with twinkly fairy lights.

I look round at the other VIPs and I suddenly feel woefully underdressed. Whilst my
no-make-up, teenager-in-a-hoodie look was perfect for the rest of the festival, the women in here are more rock chick trendy. They’re all dolled up in mini-skirts and shorts, cropped leather jackets and T-shirts with band logos.

I look down at the plain black vest top that I think I bought during my weekly shop at Tesco and stand further back against the black canvas in the hope that I blend
into the background.

At least from here we’ve got a very good vantage point of the band and they’re actually pretty good, even though we’ve never heard of them.

Sian has managed to perch herself up against a table and she’s exhibiting all the signs of meerkatting around the tent. It’s a classic Sian move where she scans the room for potential men. She’ll already have identified if there are
any eligible bachelors and has probably started to make eyes at them.

I can’t imagine who she would have picked. Everyone’s a bit too young and hipster for my liking.

‘This cider is so good,’ says Sian, downing the rest of her bottle.

‘Whoa, slow down, appreciate the flavour,’ I say, taking another tiny sip. My resolve weakening with each one.

I watch Sian as she suddenly stands up a little
straighter, and shakes her hair back. I follow her gaze towards the man that’s just walked into the tent.

My heart starts to beat faster as I realise it’s Joseph’s best friend Marcus. I brace myself in case Joseph walks in behind him, but he seems to be alone. He scans the room briefly before seeing a woman standing at one of the tables in the middle, and he goes and brushes her cheek with a
gentle kiss.

‘Typical,’ says Sian, shaking her head. ‘The good ones are always taken.’

I purse my lips. As Sian wasn’t Joseph’s biggest fan, we’d never mixed our friends so she’s not met Marcus before.

‘I don’t think he’s necessarily a good one,’ I say, sighing. ‘He’s Joseph’s best friend.’

‘What?’ says Sian, her head snapping round for another look. ‘Why an earth didn’t you introduce me to
him before? He’s gorgeous.’

‘He’s also a bit of a player. Changes his girlfriends more than most people change their knickers.’

‘I wouldn’t mind him changing my knickers.’

How much cider has she had?

I see Marcus looking round the tent and I try and hide behind Sian. It’s so small in here that it would be almost impossible for him not to see me. I instinctively reach for my bottle and down
it. So much for self-restraint. Seeing him has unnerved me and I need some Dutch courage. There’s no way that Marcus won’t mention to Joseph that he’s seen me. And it would be bloody typical that I’m here dressed in a plain top with jeans, looking like I’ve made zero effort. Although I guess it could be worse – Joseph could be here too.

‘Slow down, aren’t you supposed to taste it,’ says Sian,
mocking me.

‘Very funny,’ I say. ‘I was thirsty.’

I honestly couldn’t tell her what I’ve just drunk – my mouth was numb to the taste.

‘Do you want to go perch at that table?’ says Sian, pointing to one that some people have vacated closer to the stage.

‘No,’ I say rather too quickly. ‘I’m happy here.’

The black canvas of the tent and the shadows are my friend at the moment.

‘But we’d have
a much better view of the band over there. And we’d be more part of the action.’

I’m about to protest that it’s not the proximity to the band that’s putting me off, it’s the fact that we’d only be one table away from Marcus and his friend, but before I get a chance, Sian has swanned off towards it.

I have no real choice but to follow her. I try to keep my head down, hiding my face with the side
of my hair.

Sian is already in conversation with a man before I get there. He’s not her usual type. He’s young, and wearing a faded Led-Zeppelin T-shirt and skinny jeans. He’s got his curly hair tamed in a hairband and a checked shirt round his waist. He looks like he could be auditioning for One Direction.

‘So tell me about the rationale behind the festival,’ says Sian.

Ah, that explains it.
She’s in work mode rather than cougar mode. Her iPhone is out and she’s nodding away as the young man starts talking about local talent and promoting the city.

I start to relax as I look around and realise that perhaps my boring outfit has done me some favours. I simply blend into the background whether I’m at the edge of the tent or in the centre, which means maybe I’ll be able to hide from
Marcus in plain sight.

I’ve turned my attention to the band and I’m tapping away with my foot when I hear my name.

‘Abi,’ he says in his familiar commanding voice.

I look up and our eyes meet.

‘Marcus,’ I say, downing Sian’s bottle of cider that she’d put down to conduct her interview, my shaking hand just about allowing me.

‘I saw the photos of your new hair on Facebook – it really suits
you.’

I instinctively raise a hand to my hair before jolting at the mention of Facebook. I’d forgotten I was friends with him. A flutter of an idea flies through my mind – if he’s seen the photos of me with new hair doing the challenges, does that mean that Joseph has seen them too?

‘Thanks. And how are you?’

‘Good, thanks,’ he replies. ‘What brings you to the VIP area then?’

‘My friend Sian
is a local journalist,’ I say, pointing to her interviewing the Harry Styles wannabe. ‘How about you?’

There’s a loud cough to our left and Marcus’s companion seems to have been doing the hacking. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, turning towards her before looking back at me. ‘You know Bianca, don’t you? Joseph’s sister. She’s the one that got us the tickets. She was involved with the PR for the festival.’

I’m really glad that the table is high up as I manage to grab hold of it to steady myself.

I hadn’t recognised her. Her hair is a completely different colour from when we were at the Ritz and it’s plaited round the top of her head, with the rest of it spilling out in surfer waves that hang halfway down her back. From her pretty white dress, teamed with faded denim jacket and cowboy boots, you’d
think she was attending Coachella rather than a tiny festival in Portsmouth.

‘We never actually met,’ I say, weakly, feeling a bit pathetic that I dated Joseph for practically a whole year and I never met his sister. ‘I’m Abi, pleased to meet you.’

‘Abi,’ she says as if running it through a mental Rolodex. ‘Joseph’s Abi?’

I feel my heart pang at the description. It sounds so right, so perfect.

She looks at Marcus who nods at her in confirmation before she snaps her head back to me, cocking it to the side, studying me curiously as if I am an exhibit in a museum.

‘Well, well, well,’ she says in her uber-posh voice. ‘It’s nice to finally meet you.’

‘Likewise,’ I say, searching for one of the women with the trays of drinks.

‘Joseph’s always so secretive when it comes to his girlfriends.
He seems to think me and my mother will scare them off. I mean, it’s preposterous, how could little old me intimidate anyone?’

She laughs with a cackle and Marcus politely joins in, but even though she means it light-heartedly there’s a seriousness to her voice. Despite the cider fog that’s descending on my brain, it hasn’t gone unnoticed that she’s been eyeing me up and down suspiciously and
even glancing at the handbag I have over my shoulder. From the Fendi that’s dangling off hers, something tells me that she wouldn’t be impressed with my New Look accessory.

I look round at Sian for reinforcement, but I’ve lost her for the moment. She’s nodding like a Churchill dog, a hand resting on the arm of the young man. Not only is she preparing her story, it looks like she’s preparing to
get close to him too. Perhaps I was wrong; perhaps she’s on the cougar prowl after all.

‘So how are you, Abi? Since, you know,’ says Marcus in a low whisper.

‘Fine, really,’ I lie. He doesn’t need to know about the hibernation. ‘I’ve been keeping busy. I’ve started to windsurf and I’ve got quite into cycling.’

‘Right, I think I saw the photos. That’s great, keeping busy.’

‘Yes,’ I say, thinking
about how busy this list is making me. ‘In fact, I’m off tomorrow with my friend Ben to cycle round the Isle of Wight.’

‘What, like on a bike?’ says Bianca, her nose wrinkling.

‘Yep. Should be fun. I haven’t been over to the island for years.’

‘Me neither,’ says Marcus. ‘I used to love it as a kid, though. Will it take you long?’

‘Hopefully about ten hours,’ I say, a little optimistically.

‘That’s fantastic. Well, good luck with that. I’ll be thinking of you when I’m at home nursing my hangover from tonight,’ he says, raising a bottle.

There’s a slight lull in the conversation and I really want to jump in and quiz him about Joseph and whether he’s still single, but I know that will make me look desperate, exactly what I’m trying to avoid.

‘Excuse me for interrupting,’ says Sian.
‘Do you mind if I take a photo of you lot chatting for the
News
? I’m covering the event for them.’

Bianca fluffs up her hair.

‘Of course,’ she says, turning to face Sian and pouting.

‘Great.’

She turns her iPhone sideways and directs us to squash in, before taking a few snaps.

I can’t believe it. This couldn’t be more perfect. Sian is the queen of Facebook and tagging. It’ll be posted up
there within minutes and all I need to do is tag Marcus. Even if Joseph isn’t seeing my posts, I’m sure he won’t miss this one – his ex, his best friend and his sister all in the same shot.

I must look like a demented guppy as I try to force my mouth muscles not to smile so hard. I don’t want to scare anyone with quite how excited I’ve become.

‘I don’t like this band,’ says Bianca, turning her
nose up once the photo is taken. ‘It’s a bit rocky for me. Shall we go and see who’s in the acoustic tent?’

‘Yes, OK. It was lovely to see you again,’ says Marcus, in his charming tones. It’s no wonder he gets women falling at his feet.

‘You too. Give my best to Joseph.’

‘Will do,’ he calls over his shoulder as he walks away.

I grab hold of the table to steady myself and take a deep breath.
That encounter was nowhere near as bad as it could have been. Hopefully Joseph will not only see me on Facebook, but Marcus might report back that I’m going on a cycling adventure with another man.

‘Has he gone?’ asks Sian, suddenly appearing by my side.

‘Marcus? Yes.’

‘Damn it. What happened?’

‘We just chatted. He’s here with Joseph’s sister Bianca.’

‘The one from the Ritz?’ she says, not
so subtly looking round at her as they leave. ‘Blimey, she looks different.’

‘I know. She’s positively chameleonesque.’

‘So how was it? What was she like? Are they dating? Is he single?’

‘Wow, one at a time, Sparky,’ I say, raising my hands. I feel like Sian hasn’t slipped back out of reporter mode yet.

‘OK, the important one. Is that guy single?’

‘Didn’t ask. Probably. He dates at a rate
of knots so even if he was in a relationship when he walked in, he won’t be by the time he leaves.’

‘Perhaps we should go and see another band too.’

‘Perhaps you should leave him alone. Trust me. As charming as he is, he’s a heartbreaker.’

Sian pouts. I know that she can usually take care of herself with men, and she’s not Mrs Commitment herself, but he’s the type that would chew her up and
spit her out. He’s not for the faint-hearted.

‘I’m doing you a favour, honestly.’

‘Doing me a favour would be getting me to a position where I take him home with me for a wicked evening of naughty sex. But I will, on this occasion, take your word for it. Although I have had enough of this band. Can we go to another stage? No sexual motivations, I promise.’